Romans & histoires Anime Where Mc Gets Cheated On

Every year, the village had to choose a girl of age to become the Blossom Bride. The girl who was chosen would be sent into the cave as the village god’s wife. She would spend the entire night with him. If she came out alive, she would be honored for the rest of her life as a village elder. Any child she bore was said to be blessed, destined for a life of effortless fortune. If she died, the village would simply wait for the next year, when another Blossom Bride would be chosen. The blessing of the Blossom Bride was believed to pass on to her parents and elders as well. However, no one wanted to be chosen. To escape the ritual, families quietly left the village, one after another. I was the only one who volunteered. I had a lust problem, and I had always wondered what it would feel like to be with a god.

I turned to Kaelen and said, "I need you to help me make a potion—something that can erase every trace of me, like I never existed. Like I'm already dead. "It's the only way I can leave Julian Blackwood for good." Everyone used to say he loved me like I was his own heartbeat. For me—a rogue with no pack to protect me—he even called off a planned union with the Silvermoon Pack. He built a whole new territory and named it after me. At the start of every month, he'd hunt down the rarest snow fox pelts just for me. He told his pack I was his only salvation. For years, he made everyone believe in our love story. But love isn't always loyalty. While I was busy believing in forever, he was quietly building a second life behind my back—a home filled with his twin pups' cries and toys. Their eyes were just like his. The night I vanished, I burned it all down. That once-loving den turned to ash. He searched every valley, put a bounty on every winged rider, and tore through half the borderlands to find me. But when he finally did, I was already gone.

Everyone thought I was just an Omega clinging to Alpha Pheisar— gentle, silent, unworthy of love. In his eyes, I was nothing more than a burden the Moon Goddess tossed his way. But the moment he held Selene’s hand and vowed a mate-bond at the Moonlit Altar, I finally understood — I had never mattered. He never kept a promise, never cared about the wolf-soul I burned to keep him alive. So I rejected him. He thought I was being dramatic—until I bonded with the “comatose Alpha” everyone believed would never wake. When he knelt at my ceremony and roared “I only want you,” I simply replied: “Too late.” What they never knew was this— I was never a vine to be pulled or broken. I can stitch a wedding gown with devotion, and cut off a rotting love just as cleanly. I can be soft— and I can be resolute. The day I married Alpha Zander, no one expected him to wake—much less fall for me. But the first time I whispered “Mate” in his arms, the ice around him melted into pure devotion. And in the quiet dark, his hand firm on my waist, he murmured: “Pheisar is downstairs begging again…I’m feeling jealous. You’ll have to make it up to me.” This time— Pheisar will learn what kind of treasure he threw away. And Zander will know the partner in his hands is worth a lifetime of love.

She gave him her youth, her loyalty, her love, and in return, he gave her betrayal. For eight years, Nora Song believed in her marriage to Chance Hart, until his first love, Jenny Young, returned from abroad. He brought Jenny home on their wedding anniversary, and handed Nora the divorce papers. He asked her to step aside, just so he could fulfill Jenny's dying wishes. He unreasonably wanted her to be understanding, so she calmly packed up to leave. However, walking away was not an option. Bound by the crushing debts of her parents, Nora was forced to remain in the Hart household as nothing more than a servant. She was a proud world-class pianist, but she had to endure the humiliation of being mocked and belittled in her own home. That was until she discovered something that could change everything, eighty percent of the Hart family's shares, was signed over to her by the man who once saved her life. She would not leave empty-handed. She thought to herself, 'If Chance thinks I'm still the same woman who loves him unconditionally, he's about to learn just how cold a broken heart can be.'

How rich could a person get? My husband was extremely wealthy. The world knew him as Yvan Ellison, the person who owned nearly half of Ember City's real estate. In the five years of our marriage, he would transfer a property to my name whenever he went out for a rendezvous with his true love. By the time I owned ninety-nine properties, he suddenly realized that I had changed. I no longer cried or caused a scene. I did not beg him to stay home. I simply chose the best villa in Ember City, held the property transfer agreement in my hands, and waited for him to sign. When he finally did, he showed the first hint of softness in years. "When I get back, I'll take you to see the fireworks." I obediently put the agreement away and gave a soft hum. I just did not tell him that this time, the document he signed… was our divorce papers.

Blurb: In the shadows where silk sheets burn and whispered yeses become desperate screams, Velvet Inferno invites you into five scorching tales of raw, unfiltered lust. From a university co-ed claimed by two dominant athletes to a neglected wife riding her brother-in-law while her sister watches, these stories plunge deep into forbidden fantasies where rules are broken and bodies are worshipped. Warning: This collection is for mature audiences only (18+). Contains explicit sexual content, including threesomes, infidelity, doctor-patient power play, voyeurism, sex toy usage, and intense consensual encounters. Reader discretion is strongly advised. If you blush easily or prefer your pleasure mild, step away now. The flames here leave nothing untouched.

Marcus's sixth patent had just gone through, and he said he was going to give me the grand proposal, the one that would close out four years of dating. The campus quad was covered in candles and roses. Marcus stood in the middle of it holding a bouquet, his eyes shining. He was halfway through his speech when his graduate student Claire threw herself into his arms. The plain silver band on her finger, identical to his, caught the candlelight. The crowd went still, then started murmuring. Every face turned toward them with the kind of look people get when they think they've stumbled onto a secret. And I was standing in the middle of that crowd. His girlfriend of four years, the one he had kept hidden the entire time, watching them hold each other. Watching him swallow the rest of his speech. Watching him hand my flowers to her. My phone buzzed in my hand. A message from S. "Sweetheart. Have you thought about it? We know we were wrong."

For five years, Marco Falcone was the perfect man. Or so I thought. The illusion shattered on the night of our engagement party, when his mistress crashed it, a five-year-old boy in tow. The boy ran straight to Marco, crying, "Daddy! Daddy, I finally found you!" It had to be some kind of sick joke. But then Marco turned to me, his voice stripped of all warmth. "This is my son, Leo. A… mistake Sofia and I made five years ago." "Leo is the Falcone heir. I have to legitimize them. That means I'll be engaged to Sofia first." "But Lydia, believe me, I still love you. We can have our engagement party in six months. You're going to be the Donna of the Falcone family. I expect you to be generous and understanding. This is non-negotiable." I laughed, a cold, sharp sound, and slid the engagement ring off my finger. My eyes scanned the room and locked on the man in the corner—Lorenzo Moretti, the most powerful Don in New York. He held another title, one only I knew: the man who’d been trying to make me his. "Don Moretti," I called out, my voice clear and steady. "I find myself in need of a new fiancé. Are you interested?"

After Roman Archer and I broke up, he devoted himself to academic research. He had finally become successful. During a television interview, he looked just as confident and high-spirited as he had been back then. The host asked whom he most wanted to share this news with. After a brief silence, he called me. “Celeste, thank you for leaving me. My career is thriving now.” I smiled. “Congratulations, Mr. Roman.” He would never know that if I had not left, he would have died.

To everyone else, I'm the wife of Stefano Pace, the man who runs this city's underworld. To others, I am living the kind of luxury every woman in town envies. But what no one knows is that in three days, I'm leaving my husband for good. It started when I took Stefano's car to wash and spotted a black stocking that wasn't mine wedged in the passenger seat cushions. It was balled up and still reeked of sickly sweet perfume. The sight of it was like a knife to the heart. I knew that perfume. It is Isla Torelli's. She's Stefano's underboss, the only woman besides me who's ever taken the passenger seat. My hand trembled as I gripped the stocking, but I kept my cool. I thought back to our wedding seven years ago, when Stefano stood in front of the whole family and vowed, "If I ever betray you, then betray me a hundredfold!" He probably did not think those words would come true.